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| Head Canon Ficlet | Mature Rating
An empty room, silence--
But even in the silence, there's a deafening buzz, a high-pitched hum that can only be compared to the static of a television or radio feed, but louder. Was it in her head? Was this all just in her head?
Maybe this was a nightmare; her mind had gotten the better of her and she was finally learning her lesson to never sneak out again. This was her third strike, this was it. All she had left was right in front of her, and it would be taken away if she didn't start to be more careful. Fuck, she wishes it were like that. But it's fucking not.
She's fucking gone.
All Ellie can focus on is that damn high-pitched hum, her eardrums are pounding and she feels like they're bleeding. Smoke billows from the barrel of the gun in her hands, serving as a curtain for the display before her. The display she created. Everything seems to go numb, blood boiling and head spinning when what's occurred starts to make what she is, characterizes her. The young girl in front of her is clouded by smoke only briefly, and it clears to paint a picture of the crimson trickling down her forehead and nose.
"Fuck." It's just a whisper, a prelude of what's to fall on her shoulders.
"Fuck, fuck, Fuck! Riley!"
--
"I'm telling you, nothing's happening."
Ellie's been staring for what seems like hours, the glazed-over wound unchanging for over a day and a half. She's not sure what to feel, what to think, but she's made through this with nothing but a mere flesh wound, while Riley sits in the back corner of the room sweating profusely and shaking like she's frozen.
"Ellie, stop."
Riley's gaze is tired, hazy, looking to her friend from the couch she rests on. It's clear that the infection has spread quickly, the wound on her hand looking sickly, oozing with an unidentifiable fluid. She's tried to stop the flow of puss, but nothing seems to work. It seeps through every rag and wrap, and she's at the point where exhaustion is her source of control. Ellie is clearly seething, her eyes red from sleep loss and her skin pale from the pure anxiety that has taken hold of her. She'd expected to wither away with Riley, to follow the same fate, but it doesn't seem to be ending up that way. There's no fever, no exhaustion, no nothing. Just a strange film developed over a fresh wound.
"No! How the fuck are we going to do this? I'm not feeling shit, and you're already turning!"
The older teen sighs, face in the only clean hand remaining. There were plenty of options, none of which besides waiting seemed to appeal to her. Ellie had agreed, but the "losing our minds together" was going sour fast. It's clear to Ellie that Riley doesn't have an answer worth shit, and it has her resigning to collapsing beside her on the couch, face in hands. Her knee bounces, body unable to keep still while the rest of her is tense.
"We don't got much of a choice now, huh?" Riley speaks softly, tired.
Ellie turns to face her, just as much of a look of fear on her features as confusion.
"What?"
"Look."
Riley presents her hand, the infection site exposed while she presents how quickly it's spread. Fungal-like warts have formed around the bite, and it's already made its way down her arm.
"It's been at least 40 hours, Ellie... I don't know why it's slower for you, but there's nothing we can do about it. My time's coming up."
Ellie quickly loses patience, her eyes tightly shut while her hands ball into fists.
"So what the fuck do we do? Just go with our first option?"
Riley doesn't say a word, just looks to Ellie, eyes glazed over while her features fall flat. There are no words exchanged, but it isn't rightly needed. Ellie's bottom lip quivers, her stomach churns and her gaze shifts to the gun rested in Riley's holster. She shakes her head, looks away, hand resting at Riley's knee before gripping it hard.
"No. No just wait it out. Let's wait."
"Ellie, please."
--
Hours pass. Hours and hours and it feels like it might as well have been a year since the incident. The clock hits 47. The sun is down and the stars cast small spotlights down to the disarray and destruction below. Ellie sits in a corner, a dark corner at the farthest end of the apartment they had found refuge in, eyes cast over at a gun that had been kicked to the center of the room.
Her eyes are large, mouth pressed in a hard line. There are tears, but they're seemingly stuck in the crevice of her lids. She pulls herself in tight, arms around her knees while she remains completely still, silent.
However, that doesn't speak for the dark distance beyond the room. Crackled, wet mumbles and groans echo, shaking her deep within her core. There's a voice in there, a familiar voice, but it's too far away to touch, too far gone to recognize what it once was. Ellie wants to move, but she can't. She can't see what's beyond the shadows of the room, she can't bear it.
She looks at her arm, still unchanged, her physical state just as stable.
"--!"
A shaken inhale. The sounds get harsher, hungry, throat heaving and wheezing before a screech sets the pace of a pounding foot to the floor.
Ellie's eyes widen all the more, the tears frozen in time when her gaze shifts back up. A foot slides forward in what little light is left, a familiar sneaker setting pace and introducing a familiar leg. A familiar torso. A familiar face.
"No... No."
She's forced to stand up, but her legs feel heavy. Time slows when the figure comes even closer, the darkness falling behind her. The twilight glow falls upon the figure's gaze, yellow-tinted eyes, bloodshot and framed by small, fungal tumors, meet with Ellie.
Ellie's eyes meet with that gun resting on the floor, and Riley shrieks.
--
"Oh my god!"
The gun clatters to the floor, three bullet casings rattling across the wood upon impact. Ellie drops to her knees, Riley's lifeless frame adjacent to the weapon.
Her hands go to her face, rubbing her eyes furiously as if begging for this to be a dream. But when she opens them, all she sees is blood. All she sees is Riley on the floor.
"RILEY!"
She can't control the sobs, the shaken breaths when she crawls her way forward. There's so much blood, blood that coats her clothes and hands when she reaches for her and pulls her into her arms. It was going to happen, they had planned it, but it doesn't make this any easier. Ellie tries to hold her close, tight, head burying into her shoulder as the tears free fall but the smell...
The smell of flesh and blood, the sites of fungus on her face and neck... Ellie can't fight back the bile that overwhelms her throat. She lets go, hunching over when her stomach purges.
There's a sob, a moan of pain until she finally forces herself away from Riley's body. All she can do is stare, commit to memory the godawful thing she just had to do. It may not have been the first time she shot a gun, but it's certainly the first time it had been pointed and shot at a human being. She trembles, her head pounding and her ears ringing even when she covers them and hunches forward in desperation for comfort and release of this hell.
But nothing comes. She doesn't wake up. All Ellie can do is smell that smell, sit through her head pounding and her body writhing. She can't move, and she doesn't.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."
She rocks back and forth.
"Fuck. Fuck this! Fuck, why couldn't I have just died with you?! FUCK!"
And there's no response.
Only the silence.
Only that high-pitched hum.
Nothing else.
But even in the silence, there's a deafening buzz, a high-pitched hum that can only be compared to the static of a television or radio feed, but louder. Was it in her head? Was this all just in her head?
Maybe this was a nightmare; her mind had gotten the better of her and she was finally learning her lesson to never sneak out again. This was her third strike, this was it. All she had left was right in front of her, and it would be taken away if she didn't start to be more careful. Fuck, she wishes it were like that. But it's fucking not.
She's fucking gone.
All Ellie can focus on is that damn high-pitched hum, her eardrums are pounding and she feels like they're bleeding. Smoke billows from the barrel of the gun in her hands, serving as a curtain for the display before her. The display she created. Everything seems to go numb, blood boiling and head spinning when what's occurred starts to make what she is, characterizes her. The young girl in front of her is clouded by smoke only briefly, and it clears to paint a picture of the crimson trickling down her forehead and nose.
"Fuck." It's just a whisper, a prelude of what's to fall on her shoulders.
"Fuck, fuck, Fuck! Riley!"
"I'm telling you, nothing's happening."
Ellie's been staring for what seems like hours, the glazed-over wound unchanging for over a day and a half. She's not sure what to feel, what to think, but she's made through this with nothing but a mere flesh wound, while Riley sits in the back corner of the room sweating profusely and shaking like she's frozen.
"Ellie, stop."
Riley's gaze is tired, hazy, looking to her friend from the couch she rests on. It's clear that the infection has spread quickly, the wound on her hand looking sickly, oozing with an unidentifiable fluid. She's tried to stop the flow of puss, but nothing seems to work. It seeps through every rag and wrap, and she's at the point where exhaustion is her source of control. Ellie is clearly seething, her eyes red from sleep loss and her skin pale from the pure anxiety that has taken hold of her. She'd expected to wither away with Riley, to follow the same fate, but it doesn't seem to be ending up that way. There's no fever, no exhaustion, no nothing. Just a strange film developed over a fresh wound.
"No! How the fuck are we going to do this? I'm not feeling shit, and you're already turning!"
The older teen sighs, face in the only clean hand remaining. There were plenty of options, none of which besides waiting seemed to appeal to her. Ellie had agreed, but the "losing our minds together" was going sour fast. It's clear to Ellie that Riley doesn't have an answer worth shit, and it has her resigning to collapsing beside her on the couch, face in hands. Her knee bounces, body unable to keep still while the rest of her is tense.
"We don't got much of a choice now, huh?" Riley speaks softly, tired.
Ellie turns to face her, just as much of a look of fear on her features as confusion.
"What?"
"Look."
Riley presents her hand, the infection site exposed while she presents how quickly it's spread. Fungal-like warts have formed around the bite, and it's already made its way down her arm.
"It's been at least 40 hours, Ellie... I don't know why it's slower for you, but there's nothing we can do about it. My time's coming up."
Ellie quickly loses patience, her eyes tightly shut while her hands ball into fists.
"So what the fuck do we do? Just go with our first option?"
Riley doesn't say a word, just looks to Ellie, eyes glazed over while her features fall flat. There are no words exchanged, but it isn't rightly needed. Ellie's bottom lip quivers, her stomach churns and her gaze shifts to the gun rested in Riley's holster. She shakes her head, looks away, hand resting at Riley's knee before gripping it hard.
"No. No just wait it out. Let's wait."
"Ellie, please."
Hours pass. Hours and hours and it feels like it might as well have been a year since the incident. The clock hits 47. The sun is down and the stars cast small spotlights down to the disarray and destruction below. Ellie sits in a corner, a dark corner at the farthest end of the apartment they had found refuge in, eyes cast over at a gun that had been kicked to the center of the room.
Her eyes are large, mouth pressed in a hard line. There are tears, but they're seemingly stuck in the crevice of her lids. She pulls herself in tight, arms around her knees while she remains completely still, silent.
However, that doesn't speak for the dark distance beyond the room. Crackled, wet mumbles and groans echo, shaking her deep within her core. There's a voice in there, a familiar voice, but it's too far away to touch, too far gone to recognize what it once was. Ellie wants to move, but she can't. She can't see what's beyond the shadows of the room, she can't bear it.
She looks at her arm, still unchanged, her physical state just as stable.
"--!"
A shaken inhale. The sounds get harsher, hungry, throat heaving and wheezing before a screech sets the pace of a pounding foot to the floor.
Ellie's eyes widen all the more, the tears frozen in time when her gaze shifts back up. A foot slides forward in what little light is left, a familiar sneaker setting pace and introducing a familiar leg. A familiar torso. A familiar face.
"No... No."
She's forced to stand up, but her legs feel heavy. Time slows when the figure comes even closer, the darkness falling behind her. The twilight glow falls upon the figure's gaze, yellow-tinted eyes, bloodshot and framed by small, fungal tumors, meet with Ellie.
Ellie's eyes meet with that gun resting on the floor, and Riley shrieks.
"Oh my god!"
The gun clatters to the floor, three bullet casings rattling across the wood upon impact. Ellie drops to her knees, Riley's lifeless frame adjacent to the weapon.
Her hands go to her face, rubbing her eyes furiously as if begging for this to be a dream. But when she opens them, all she sees is blood. All she sees is Riley on the floor.
"RILEY!"
She can't control the sobs, the shaken breaths when she crawls her way forward. There's so much blood, blood that coats her clothes and hands when she reaches for her and pulls her into her arms. It was going to happen, they had planned it, but it doesn't make this any easier. Ellie tries to hold her close, tight, head burying into her shoulder as the tears free fall but the smell...
The smell of flesh and blood, the sites of fungus on her face and neck... Ellie can't fight back the bile that overwhelms her throat. She lets go, hunching over when her stomach purges.
There's a sob, a moan of pain until she finally forces herself away from Riley's body. All she can do is stare, commit to memory the godawful thing she just had to do. It may not have been the first time she shot a gun, but it's certainly the first time it had been pointed and shot at a human being. She trembles, her head pounding and her ears ringing even when she covers them and hunches forward in desperation for comfort and release of this hell.
But nothing comes. She doesn't wake up. All Ellie can do is smell that smell, sit through her head pounding and her body writhing. She can't move, and she doesn't.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."
She rocks back and forth.
"Fuck. Fuck this! Fuck, why couldn't I have just died with you?! FUCK!"
And there's no response.
Only the silence.
Only that high-pitched hum.
Nothing else.